


vito corleone must be rolling in his grave

by jongdaesang (d10smessi)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mafia AU, Romance, Violence, age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d10smessi/pseuds/jongdaesang
Summary: mafia boss chanyeol accidentally hires a clumsy secretary. he's pretty sure the plot of the godfather is a little bit different than this one.





	vito corleone must be rolling in his grave

**Author's Note:**

> rating will change in the future. usual warnings apply with this kind of au.

“boss!” someone barrels into the room where chanyeol is in. he’s checking the spreadsheets on the iPad, accounting for every single weapon delivered. he has people to do this—a lot of people to do this, being the biggest mob in south korea—but chanyeol has reached the top because of his attitude, and his work ethic.

 

and, well, his kill count. but that’s another story for another day.

 

“what is it?” he drawls, bored. 

 

chanyeol sneaks a glance at the man who’s panting. the warehouse doesn’t have an elevator what with it being a little on the older side, just close to their private port in incheon. the minion, and chanyeol relishes in calling them as such, is one of the newbie recruits from last year. chanyeol does not bother remembering much about the neophytes—and this, he is glad he has people for—but they always join for one reason or another—money, boredom, revenge, some tragic backstory. 

 

“there’s um—” neophyte visibly pauses as if he’s searching for a word under his tongue. his eyebrow piercing catches the glint of the light and chanyeol is momentarily distracted. he places the iPad down the table. kris wu from china won’t dare to double cross him with bad shipment anyway.

 

neophyte stutters under chanyeol’s glare. and chanyeol is glaring because the young man before him whose name he doesn’t know has already wasted ten seconds of his time. he has already earned millions of dollars in that same amount of time. 

 

“—a situation,” neophyte adds lamely. “we have—um—a situation in the basement. there’s someone and, well, he’s punched ilsung, sir, and—”

 

chanyeol holds a palm up and the man stops speaking. finally. chanyeol hates it when people ramble on. he wonders what is happening downstairs and why he, of all people, is called. he asks as much and the neophyte shrugs carelessly, answers, “jongdae, sir, he says you need to see it.”

 

chanyeol’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. if jongdae thinks this is worth his time then maybe, it really is. he gives a slight nod to the man and he steps around the table, not bothering to put his suit jacket on. he’s left wearing the maroon waistcoat and the charcoal gray tuxedo pants that he owns too many pairs of. 

 

he folds both the sleeves of his dress shirt up to the forearm, showing a formidable and impressive collection of tattoos. 

 

_just in case_ , chanyeol thinks with a smirk. there is nothing he hates much more than blood-stained designer clothes. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

the din in the basement is loud as fuck and chanyeol deliberately slams the door shut. everyone else quiets down and the mob boss can’t help but tilt his head to the side, observing. in one corner of the basement, some of chanyeol’s people in charge of this warehouse are gathered. god, chanyeol mentally groans, he’s not paying these men to gossip, is he?

 

he catches jongdae’s stare on the other side. jongdae is his right-hand man but he works more as a—janitor. officially, park chanyeol owns a conglomerate of luxury hotel and resorts all over the country. it’s nothing much relative to his competitors, in reality. officially, kim jongdae is listed under park luxury entertainment group as some no-name cleaning staff. unofficially, chanyeol runs the biggest mafia in south korea and the third biggest in east asia. unofficially, jongdae really is a janitor for chanyeol, when the dirt that needs to be cleaned is, well, people. 

 

“we have a situation,” jongdae smirks. he always seems to be in a perfectly jovial mood to chanyeol. like nothing is touching the smile plastered on his face. chanyeol always gets the urge to punch the grin on the assassin’s smug face. 

 

“so i’ve been told,” he deadpans. chanyeol rolls his eyes and waves a hand carelessly. he’s always loved gestures, big or small, anything that would have his body moving. “show the _situation_ to me.”

 

the sea of people part and frankly, chanyeol does not know what to expect. he has no idea what the situation could be and why he is needed. if it’s a mess, someone in here is trained to clean it. hell, jongdae should have made the decision himself. the younger man is allowed to make decisions like that, being chanyeol’s second-in-command, and occasionally, wingman. there’s no greater honor, really.

 

so when chanyeol catches a glimpse of the situation, the first thing he sees is—well, chanyeol is an honest man, if the event calls for it. the first thing that catches his eye is the ass that’s parked on the wooden chair.

 

it is a big ass, to be fair. 

 

chanyeol’s eyes roam up—there’s not much to roam, actually. the person tied on the chair is short, shorter than jongdae by an inch or so. chanyeol stares at the small face and how it seems to be struggling to contain such big eyes. large, doe-eyes stare at chanyeol and they are wet with unshed tears. his eyes are pleading and chanyeol is reminded of puppies.

 

god, moments like this, chanyeol really remembers that he is an evil man. 

 

the boy, and he seems like he’s such a boy compared to all of chanyeol’s 35 years, stare up at him and he makes noises around the duct tape plastered over his mouth. chanyeol traces the slope of the boy’s nose and how it ends into a round tip. _cute_.

 

he walks to the person tied on the chair and the boy wiggles and thrashes against his binding. chanyeol does not admit to being a righteous man and he sneaks a glance at the way the boy’s ass seems so fat pressed against the wood. god, maybe he should stay seated forever.

 

“shhh,” chanyeol says lowly. he likes being intimidating. maybe it’s the high of the power. the boy does not stop his movement so chanyeol adds, “if you don’t stop i’ll kill you.”

 

predictably, the boy stops. the wetness on his eyes slip down and a part of chanyeol feels bad. it’s a small part though that he chooses to shove with a harsh push. 

 

“i’m going to let you talk,” he says again, making sure he sounds as threatening and as serious as possible. “—and you’re going to explain who you are and why you’re here. i’m going to decide if i like your answer and then, i’m going to decide what to do with you.”

 

chanyeol pauses and the tears continue to stream on the captive’s face. chanyeol’s eyes dart to his bangs, from where it is curled slightly, probably styled. it doesn’t cover the boy’s thick eyebrows. 

 

“do you understand what i just said?” chanyeol asks. 

 

the boy frantically nods and chanyeol bends just a little bit. his fingers graze the person’s soft and smooth skin—chanyeol vaguely wonders if he takes care of it well—and he grips the duct tape on the boy’s mouth. he pulls it hard and rips it in one go, like a bandaid. not the most comfortable experience but oh well.

 

the first thing chanyeol notices is—well—wow. the boy is pretty, beautiful. underneath the duct tape is a pair of pink lips set in a thick pout. closer now, chanyeol sees the smattering of moles on the man’s face. for a moment, chanyeol’s brain short circuits and it slips somewhere into cheesy territory— _ah, they’re called beauty marks for a reason_.

 

“pleasepleaseplease—”

 

chanyeol places an index finger on the man’s mouth, effectively stopping what is going to be a litany of have-mercy’s.

 

“slowly,” he says. “and start from your name. we can get to the begging later.” chanyeol jokes, half-jokes. 

 

chanyeol withdraws his fingers from the plush lips and does not think too much about it. 

 

“i’m kyungsoo—do kyungsoo,” the boy says. and he really seems like a boy, maybe 18 or 19. god, chanyeol does the quick math, he’s older than kyungsoo by 17 years. kyungsoo is still crying. his lips are bitten red and chanyeol eyes the man’s face. he curses jongdae a bit, realizing exactly why he is called down for this particular situation. 

 

seventeen years, he thinks, reminds himself. 

 

jongdae is going to get a beating later. 

 

“okay, kyungsoo,” chanyeol replies. “why are you here?”

 

“i—i just—” chanyeol admires the way kyungsoo crumbles and the way he picks himself up. the boy steadies himself and he faces chanyeol resolutely. the mob boss does not deny that he is amazed at kyungsoo’s courage. it takes a lot to be able to look at park chanyeol in the eye. 

 

“i heard your employees talking at the convenience store,” kyungsoo sniffles. he uses his lips and points to a group of lackeys whom chanyeol has no idea of the names of. he can’t be bothered to remember, eyes focused on kyungsoo’s pout. 

 

“see, i was visiting my aunt here and helping her with the store—she sells rice cakes—and—” the younger man sniffles again. “they were talking about a job so i just, you know, i followed them. i needed a new job. suddenly, everyone was ganging up on me and tying me up!”

 

kyungsoo explodes and his voice breaks at the end. chanyeol is still a little confused. how is kyungsoo here for a job? 

 

“look, do kyungsoo,” he says. “i really am not buying that excuse. so you what? you just happen to stumble into one of my warehouses? slip past unnoticed before you get caught? is that it?”

 

“y-yes!” kyungsoo sobs. “that’s it. please don’t kill me! i won’t tell anyone anything.”

 

chanyeol scoffs, “i haven’t mentioned anything about killing anyone. but now that you have… what do i do with you then? what if you’re a spy?” kyungsoo has stumbled upon one of chanyeol’s warehouses, the one where he keeps the shipment coming from guangzhou. most of his deals with kris wu begin and end here, in incheon. 

 

“i am not!” kyungsoo vehemently denies. his head shakes like it’s about to be dislocated from its neck. for a moment, chanyeol worries. “i don’t even know how to throw a punch! my favorite school subject is recess. i garden in my free time and walk dogs for part time. i _am not_ a spy.”

 

“sounds like something a spy would say,” jongdae pipes up. kyungsoo’s head flies to the voice and another unholy sob escapes him. 

 

there is mirth dancing in jongdae’s almond shaped eyes and chanyeol resists the urge to sigh in frustration. he has almost forgotten about jongdae being there what with the—sight before him. it’s a character fault. chanyeol is easily distracted by pretty little things. not that kyungsoo is pretty, of course. he’s mostly little. a little thing—person. yes, a little person. chanyeol mentally high fives himself.

 

“please, i am not a spy!” kyungsoo breaks down again. chanyeol hates the sound of his silent crying. there’s something so pitiful about it. maybe the fact that it’s not loud, it’s this type of silent tears, with the occasional sniffles. if chanyeol has a heart, this is the part where it is metaphorically breaking. 

 

“how do we know that?” jongdae teases. 

 

for all that jongdae makes himself as this urban legend of an assassin, the truth is he also has a soft heart—he is sort of an urban legend of an assassin too but that’s not mutually exclusive anyway. he’ll probably suggest letting kyungsoo go, maybe send someone to watch over him for a bit. the mob owns a lot of businesses so they can employ kyungsoo to one, keep an eye on him to know if he is doing something shady. he’s obviously not with the police because chanyeol plays poker with the commissioner every third saturday of the month. 

 

“you can—” kyungsoo’s thick eyebrows furrow as he hiccups. “—spy on me?” he tilts his head a bit and it reminds chanyeol of clueless puppies. 

 

he can’t help but blurt out, “are you fucking dumb?”

 

the sharp words must have stung and the tied up male glares up at chanyeol through his tears.

 

“don’t call me that, dumbo!” kyungsoo snaps.

 

there is a moment of silence that is punctuated by kyungsoo’s gasp. chanyeol resists the urge to hold his ears. god, he knows. he knows why kyungsoo has called him dumbo. chanyeol’s finger twitches. he has killed people for something less than that. 

 

the tension is broken by jongdae’s sharp laughter. 

 

“i like you, do kyungsoo,” the assassin smiles. he steps out of the wall where he is leaning on and walks to where chanyeol is. the lackeys surrounding them give them a wider berth. jongdae is known to be volatile with dead accuracy—emphasis on the dead part. 

 

“hey, p-c-y,” jongdae says. the younger man likes calling chanyeol by his initials. according to him, it makes chanyeol look more mysterious. for chanyeol, it just sounds pretentious. “what do you say about keeping him under our thumb for awhile? just to see if he really is not a spy as he says.”

 

jongdae wiggles his eyebrows. nothing good comes out of jongdae wiggling his eyebrows. 

 

chanyeol’s previous guess is spot on. of course, jongdae is going to suggest that. he isn’t about to kill kyungsoo anyway. chanyeol is not willing to dig too much on the reason why. 

 

he thinks back about the iPad on the table he has left and the spreadsheets he is checking. none of the lackeys know how to use google extensions properly so chanyeol is left fixing documents himself. sometimes, he gets his inner circle to do it. it gets pretty tiring, especially if he has a meeting at 5PM regarding his resort in jeju and then someone to kill at 6:30PM because they think fooling the mob won’t get their corpse thrown to the han river.

 

“hm…” chanyeol hums. “say, kyungsoo? do you know how to use google documents? presentation? spreadsheet?”

 

kyungsoo nods yes at every question. 

 

“and do you know how to organize a calendar?”

 

kyungsoo nods again.

 

chanyeol grins, shark-like, “well, congratulations. it seems that you got what you originally wanted. you’re hired.”

 

there’s a pause before kyungsoo says, “i can’t work for the mafia!”

 

chanyeol rolls his eyes. what a dumbass. “of course, you’re not working for the mafia. you’re not going to kill anyone if that’s what you think. all you have to do is show up at 9AM at the office, sit pretty, answer the phone, schedule my appointments, and clock out at 6.”

 

“but why?” kyungsoo asks. 

 

god, chanyeol thinks. this person is so dumb he probably really is not a spy. if he is, then he is a damn good one. 

 

“i need to keep an eye on you,” chanyeol answers curtly. “you may not be a spy—or you may be—but i need to know you won’t tattle to someone.”

 

“but i won’t tattle to someone—i promise,” kyungsoo says. 

 

he bats his eyelashes at chanyeol and it would have worked. god and the gloc on chanyeol’s holster both know it could and would have worked if chanyeol’s the only person in the room. but unfortunately for kyungsoo, there are other people watching and chanyeol sincerely does not want to be the talk of the entire criminal underground by the time this is over. he can’t have _breaking news—feared mafia boss curbs over a pretty face_ be the latest gossip. 

 

“your promise means nothing,” chanyeol shrugs. “my promise, however, is that i won’t kill you. i won’t kill anyone close to you, of course, as long as they don’t cross me, so go home with—” chanyeol spots another member of his inner circle silently watching. “—sehun. i’ll keep in touch.”

 

chanyeol waves his hand as he turns around. he can hear kyungsoo’s protest and the sound of sehun telling him to calm down so he can be untied soon.

 

the mob boss walks away from the _situation_ and he hears jongdae fall into step beside him. chanyeol glances sideways and sees a blooming smirk on the shorter man’s face.

 

“ _sit pretty_ , huh?” jongdae says. of course—that’s the only thing jongdae has gotten out of the entire ordeal. of course. 

 

“shut the fuck up,” chanyeol answers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

to: [_pcy@parkluxury.com_](mailto:pcy@parkluxury.com)

from: [_sehun@parkluxury.com_](mailto:sehun@parkluxury.com)

 

 

here’s his CV. i told him to send one. for HR purposes.

 

[attachment]

 

chanyeol scoffs at sehun’s message. true, they have an HR department. they have a legal business going on. chanyeol’s luxury resort in jeju is one of the most popular tourist destination for the VIPs. that does not mean that chanyeol vets his employees himself. he mostly oversees the mob down as hotel and resort operations are done remote. 

 

he still clicks the file though.

 

his phone is immediately filled with kyungsoo’s CV. the other man has graduated high school and has worked several jobs from then. no record of ever being in college. chanyeol is surprised to find out that kyungsoo is 24, a whole six years older than he has pegged the other to be. something in him rejoices but he stomps it down. it sounds too much like jongdae.

 

chanyeol reads through the file a bit. there is nothing spectacular about kyungsoo on paper, except maybe the picture he has attached on it. chanyeol is allowed to be shallow once in awhile. he thinks maybe he can mold kyungsoo to be some sort of a spy for his _own_ mob, the resident pretty face and temptress. the job usually falls to chanyeol and his inner circle, being charming. kyungsoo can be that.

 

when he starts to taste something bitter in his mouth, chanyeol closes the e-mail. no use dwelling on things that he should not think so much about.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

chanyeol sits inside his glass office in a modern mid-rise building smack dab in the middle of the business district in seoul. technically, he still runs a legal operation. he’s not a big player in the world of business, not even enough to be featured in forbes. it’s better to keep a moderately mediocre business profile. chanyeol earns some millions of dollars a year, donates some money to his causes—everything looks pristine. but underneath the illusion, when someone digs deeper and wonders why, for example, oh sehun from accounting has a different encrypted folder in his work computer and why kim jongdae the janitor has close to inhuman reflexes, then they are going to realize that park chanyeol earns not only millions, but billions of dollars in illegal trade. 

 

chanyeol may not be in forbes but when the people _who are_ get in trouble, they are the ones who come running to him.

 

so really, having a secretary-slash-personal assistant won’t raise too much eyebrows. maybe just several, since this one is going to be pretty. not that chanyeol is going to be that sleazy boss, of course.

 

but still, chanyeol taps his long fingers against his expensive and imported work table, _where the fuck is his secretary_? kyungsoo is supposed to show up to his office at 9AM but he’s nowhere to be found. it’s 9:30 in the morning and for a moment, chanyeol briefly wonders if he really _is_ a spy, that maybe his and jongdae’s intuitions are both wrong. 

 

he does not have time to dwell on it too much because kyungsoo _does_ come into his office, walking hesitantly. chanyeol eyes kyungsoo’s entire figure and blinks.

 

“what the fuck are you wearing?” chanyeol almost growls. 

 

kyungsoo is dressed in a fitted pair of black slacks and chanyeol’s wandering eyes steal a glimpse. wow, that’s—wow. however, big, fat ass aside, kyungsoo’s mustard yellow knit sweater seems inappropriate for work. while he is not doing anything more than answering phone and keying in chanyeol’s official business and mob schedule on the calendar, maybe even doing coffee and food runs, the mob boss prefers when the work place is dressed nicely. 

 

he gives clothing allowance to his employees for a reason—the reason being closer to money laundering but that is not the point right now.

 

“clothes?” kyungsoo answers (un)intelligently and his stubby fingers, barely peeking out of the sweater sleeves, grip the knitted hem slightly. “sehun didn’t mention anything about the dress code and well, he said i’ll just be sitting on the desk outside.”

 

kyungsoo nods to the space that chanyeol has gotten people to carve out for kyungsoo. there’s a mac computer that syncs to all of chanyeol’s work devices, a telephone for when chanyeol needs to be reached, and some stationery. chanyeol has no idea what else—he is pretty serious when he says most of kyungsoo’s work involves sitting pretty. someone in HR will probably give him the official _legal_ tour of the office. 

 

“well, you need to wear a suit,” chanyeol says flatly. he gestures to kyungsoo’s person, averting his eyes when it automatically strays to kyungsoo’s ass. he can’t help it, really, not when all of _that_ is out like that. 

 

“i don’t own a suit,” kyungsoo replies in an equally flat tone. his eyebrows furrow and his nose scrunches a little bit. “i never had to work in a place where i needed a suit.”

 

“you’re in luck then,” chanyeol says. “because you’re now working for me—which means a suit.”

 

kyungsoo rolls his eyes and god, chanyeol wonders, why does he keep letting this young man do that? chanyeol is serious before when he has mentioned that he had killed people for less than that. 

 

“i’m working for the mafia,” kyungsoo replies. “i don’t need to own a suit to work for the mafia. sehun says i can show up like this.”

 

“sehun is not your boss,” chanyeol says. 

 

he picks a private card and stands up from his chair. he walks up to kyungsoo and the other man cranes his head up. chanyeol does not think too much about their difference in height. kyungsoo barely reaches chanyeol’s neck. he’s probably 5’7” at most and even that is being generous. god, how can someone be this tiny?, chanyeol thinks before he brushes it off. don’t think too much about it, yeah. 

 

chanyeol hands the card to kyungsoo. it’s neat and simple. it bears chanyeol’s name in english letters and korean characters, his official phone number, and the address to his office. there’s a small phoenix logo at the side and only the people who know of park chanyeol, the mob boss, will understand. 

 

“pick a suit at any store in the gangnam strip then show my card,” chanyeol orders. most of gangnam is under his thumb so the phoenix logo in the card will pay for whatever his new secretary gets. “make sure to show it to the manager—they won’t ask any questions. come back after lunch.”

 

kyungsoo eyes the card dubiously before going back to look down at his clothes. he picks the card off of chanyeol’s fingertips before turning and walking away.

 

what a sight.

 

briefly, chanyeol hears kyungsoo sadly grumble, “but there’s nothing wrong with my outfit.”

 

he _swears_ he does not feel bad about it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

kyungsoo comes back after lunch. according to jongdae’s unnecessary information, someone from HR has accosted him after his shopping trip for the official tour of the company. he is taught how to use the copying machine, the coffee machine on chanyeol’s floor, and where the pantry is. chanyeol wonders how jongdae the janitor can even know information from the HR. he suspects the shorter man is fucking someone in that department.

 

chanyeol is in the middle of reading a legal contract about the legal side of his business when kyungsoo saunters inside the room again. the mob boss pretends as if the glass wall does not afford him the view of kyungsoo in his pristine suit. closer though, once kyungsoo is standing in front of his desk, chanyeol can see the lines of the jacket looking harsh against the narrow slope of kyungsoo’s body. kyungsoo fiddles with his clothes and stands awkwardly.

 

“here, thanks,” the secretary hands the private card to chanyeol.

 

“how many did you get?” chanyeol asks. he has not seen kyungsoo bring any paper bags with him so either he has opted to get it delivered to his place or in the office.

 

“um—just one?” kyungsoo replies. he raises his arms a little bit and chanyeol watches as the younger man winces at the feeling. “they’re really expensive, chanyeol—i mean, sir.”

 

chanyeol shrugs. “chanyeol is fine—and just one? you should have gotten more,” the mob boss replies.

 

kyungsoo shakes his head and there is a slight frown on his face as he mumbles, “i’m going back to work. bye.”

 

chanyeol watches kyungsoo walk away, wondering how someone can do it _sadly_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongdae saunters into his office, dressed in loose jeans and the black polo shirt with the words _cleaning staff_ emblazoned on his left breast. chanyeol resists the urge to chuckle. jongdae the janitor has always been an inside joke since he really is the person who _cleans_ messes, usually involving people. 

 

the assassin pretends to dust chanyeol’s display cabinet of LPs. no one has questioned why only jongdae is tasked to clean chanyeol’s office. last the both of them heard, the rumor going around the legal side of the business is that jongdae is chanyeol’s bastard of a brother and he is working here because of nepotism. the one before that involves jongdae sleeping with chanyeol. it’s a whole fanfare that entertains chanyeol’s inner circle. sometimes, sehun spreads false gossip to see how everyone reacts. 

 

“p-c-y,” jongdae slurs as he picks up and wipes chanyeol’s limited edition beatles album. “why is kyungsoo looking like he is constipated outside? don’t you need him to look pretty for you?”

 

“i don’t need him to look pretty for me,” chanyeol replies automatically. “and he is not—constipated, i mean.”

 

“tsk,” jongdae clicks his tongue. “uncomfortable then.”

 

okay, fine. chanyeol has noticed that kyungsoo looks a little uncomfortable in his seat. he is doing an okay job answering the phone and typing appointments. more than once, chanyeol has caught him watching youtube videos of people cooking. he has not berated kyungsoo though. work is a little slow today. not many people reach for chanyeol because chanyeol usually means bad news and reaching for chanyeol is the equivalent of a defcon 1. 

 

the mob boss sighs, “he’s not used to wearing suits—probably hates it.”

 

jongdae shakes his head as he slips the LP back into the display cabinet.

 

“why does he have to wear a suit?”

 

“uh—because i said so?” chanyeol deadpans.

 

jongdae releases a sharp bark of laughter.

 

“my man, kyungsoo is going to sit around from 9 to 6 and you have him wearing designer suits. it’s not comfortable for someone doing clerical work.”

 

chanyeol peeks at kyungsoo again and he does notice that the man keeps squirming in his chair. that chair is comfortable, chanyeol has made sure of it. maybe it really is the suit, chanyeol resolves to talk to kyungsoo about it.

 

“not everyone is like you, pcy,” jongdae remarks. “tell the poor boy to wear whatever the fuck he wants—must be his security blanket with all this mafia nonsense.”

 

and chanyeol, well, chanyeol considers. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

by the time 5PM rolls around, chanyeol buzzes kyungsoo to get inside his office.

 

“i haven’t briefed you about your work,” chanyeol says. he pauses and considers his next words. “the other side of your work.”

 

he sees kyungsoo stiffen on his chair before a soft _okay_ is heard. kyungsoo ends the call as he slowly walks into chanyeol’s office.

 

“why do you look like i’m about to kill you?” chanyeol lightly jokes.

 

kyungsoo frowns, sitting down on the couch close to chanyeol. the mob boss stands up, leaning against the arm of the seat close to kyungsoo.

 

“you aren’t?” kyungsoo answers dubiously. there is a certain air of discomfort surrounding him. his hands are perched on his lap and chanyeol sees the way his body curls around itself. maybe jongdae is right, the suit is a bad idea. kyungsoo looks like he’s dressing up for a prom or something. 

 

“i have people to do that for me,” chanyeol jokes again. kyungsoo stiffens and chanyeol chuckles. “relax, kyungsoo, i’m joking. as long as you’re not a spy then i don’t see any reason as to why i have to send someone to _clean up_ after you, right?”

 

kyungsoo nods with confidence. he does not seem like a spy, or a mole, or whatever it is that someone else has planted into chanyeol’s organization because they know the mafia boss is weak for a cute face. 

 

chanyeol’s face turns serious and kyungsoo obviously reads the atmosphere, sitting up straight. 

 

“but you know _of_ the mob i run, kyungsoo. you’ve seen what’s inside the incheon warehouse, right?”

 

kyungsoo nods and answers, “weapons—lots of them.”

 

chanyeol smiles. “that’s not even scratching the surface of what we do, secretary do. you’re going to have an idea but probably not as to what extent. one of these days, people are going to call asking for the phoenix and that…” chanyeol trails off.

 

kyungsoo nods as if getting the hint. 

 

“that’s the illegal part of the business?” he asks. 

 

chanyeol nods, “good boy,” he says. kyungsoo visibly flushes and the mob boss does not point it out. he commits it to memory though. 

 

“i am the phoenix, yes,” chanyeol replies honestly. “these people asking for me are people who are known in society with legal jobs, with families. they’re going to ask for the phoenix because of something or another and all you have to do is report back to me. we don’t talk about anything illegal over the phone—too dangerous—so we’ll talk about mundane things. maybe business, maybe golf, maybe cars. they’re going to mean different things but you don’t need to know what.”

 

kyungsoo nods again. “but what if—what if the police comes? like if we get caught?”

 

chanyeol scoffs. “the police commissioner is bad at poker but i let him win sometimes. his daughter is a top idol and i funded their group’s latest comeback. don’t worry your pretty head over them. besides, you’re all good in paper. just someone hired to make my coffee, keep the pantry stocked.”

 

“you have the police under your control?” kyungsoo looks baffled, curious. good, at least he is not scared. 

 

“hmm,” chanyeol hums and shrugs. 

 

“oh,” kyungsoo replies. 

 

chanyeol plucks his wallet inside his trousers and hands one of the cards he has jongdae for. “here,” chanyeol says. kyungsoo holds the black plastic with wide eyes. “company card—when you have to run errands and stuff. only sehun from accounting handles that account so we use it for— _unofficial business_ too.”

 

“sehun is part of the mafia too, right?” kyungsoo asks. he is still staring at the black card. 

 

“yeah,” chanyeol replies easily. this can be a test of kyungsoo’s loyalty too. give the young man information and see what he does with them. “he is an expert in money laundering, fraud, and chemical explosives.”

 

kyungsoo gulps. 

 

“but enough about me,” chanyeol says again. kyungsoo is still so reserved. if chanyeol wants to mold him into a part of the mafia, then kyungsoo will have to come out of his shell. “how’s your first date at work?”

 

kyungsoo makes a thinking face before replying sincerely, “honestly? i expected more deaths.”

 

chanyeol guffaws. 

 

“maybe next time,” he says. he waves kyungsoo off and adds, “you can go home. be on time tomorrow, okay?”

 

kyungsoo stands up, “okay.”

 

before he disappears outside the door, chanyeol calls out, “secretary do!”

 

the young man turns around and chanyeol ignores his brain’s filter, putting a slow motion effect on kyungsoo. it reminds chanyeol of scenes from the dramas his inner circle likes to watch. god, he is getting too old for this shit. he needs to get a grip.

 

“yes, chanyeol?” the slow way kyungsoo says chanyeol’s name sends something warm in chanyeol’s gut. like always, the mafia boss brushes it off.

 

“you don’t have to wear a suit tomorrow—or ever,” chanyeol says. he does not expect kyungsoo’s reaction so when the younger man smiles, truly smiles—big and heart-shaped—chanyeol feels like he is hit full force by a blunt object. and he knows that feeling, he has experienced it. this is, like, ten times worse. someone should have shot him in the gut. that would be easier.

 

“really?” kyungsoo confirms, all bright and—

 

“yeah,” chanyeol looks away, hiding. “you don’t look that good wearing suits, anyway.”

 

kyungsoo laughs as he goes outside. god, someone should have just shot him in the gut. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

from: XnfYHjkLopBVswN

kyungsoo came to work looking like a soft grandpa today

 

to: XnfYHjkLopBVswN

why are you using encrypted texts for this jongdae

 

from: XnfYHjkLopBVswN

can’t have anyone snooping thinking pcy has gone soft

 

to: XnfYHjkLopBVswN

fuck you

 

to: XnfYHjkLopBVswN 

and he doesnt look good in a suit thats why

 

from: XnfYHjkLopBVswN

ah… the stink of your lies

 

to: XnfYHjkLopBVswN

go clean the men’s bathroom on 4th flr then

 

from: XnfYHjkLopBVswN

FUCK YOU

**Author's Note:**

> my chansoo debut


End file.
